


Even

by randomling



Series: A Little Blood Thing [2]
Category: Popslash
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-19
Updated: 2008-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomling/pseuds/randomling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has a little blood thing. And a big Joey thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adelate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelate/gifts), [ephemera](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ephemera), [llamabitchyo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=llamabitchyo), [raynedanser](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=raynedanser).



Chris's key scraped against the lock and missed - again.

Joey's laughter was a soft, low rasp above his ear. Joey was pressed close against him, both arms tight around Chris's waist, his erection hot and insistent in the small of Chris's back, and Chris was very drunk; none of this was helping Chris to get the door open. He took a deep breath and made an exaggerated effort to apply the key to the door, but Joey chose the same moment to squeeze Chris hard around the waist. Joey's laugh became a stuttering gasp, Chris's hips jerked involuntarily as Joey ground into him, and the key slipped past the lock for a fourth time.

"Joe," Chris said under his breath. Joey had the flat of one hand against Chris's belly, ring and pinkie fingers lying along the top of Chris's waistband. The other hand was tucked above Chris's hip, and Joey's arm was a firm warm weight right around him, just above the navel. Chris put his free hand on Joey's forearm. "Joe," he said again. "Let's get in the house."

Joey chuckled again, and the movement of his chest sent little jolts of excitement through Chris, flowing through his back and down his spine all the way to his dick, until he had to wriggle and grind back against Joey. Joey's voice was a growl: "Or I could just push you up against the door and we could get off right here."

Chris shuddered, and his next breath came out ragged. If he licked his lips he could still catch a faint taste of Joey's blood, sugary and metallic, and it was enough to make him feel Joey's body and his own hard-on a little more keenly. There was a light breeze, and the cool wind on his face was a glorious contrast to the rolling heat under his skin. He sucked in a lungful of air and said, "In the house." The last word was almost a moan, because Joey's hand shifted down his belly ever so slightly, a promise of better things to come.

"C'mon," said Joey. He nudged forward with his body. Chris braced the hand with the keys in against his front door, pushed forward and down just a bit by the weight of Joey's body, and the notched edge of one key bit into the palm of his hand. It hurt, just a little, and the snatch of pain was enough to dissolve some of Chris's fever. He straightened, and Joey straightened with him, giving a tiny sigh.

"It's a lock," Chris said, almost to himself. "It's just a lock. I can do locks, I do locks every day." He frowned at the lock, and slowly moved the key towards it as if sneaking up on dangerous prey. Then he snapped his hand forward quickly, and the tip of the key grazed the lock and slid away. "Shit," Chris said, and he sighed in frustration.

Joey's lips brushed lightly against Chris's neck, and Chris had a moment to wonder if that hurt his bruised mouth. Then Joey's hand moved, lifted from Chris's belly and closed gently around Chris's right hand. Chris didn't have much chance to react as Joey turned the key upside-down, took it from Chris's hand and inserted it into the lock. The key caught, the tumblers turned, and Chris's front door swung open.

"Hallelujah," Chris said fervently.

They stumbled into the house. Joey shut the door behind them and Chris went for the alarm, letting his fingers remember the code for him because he was pretty sure his brain couldn't. Thankfully, the beeping shut off, and when he closed the cover and turned around, Joey was standing behind him in the dim hallway, and the only things Chris could see were Joey's glimmering eyes. Chris stood there for a minute, like an idiot, and Joey said, "Hold on a second. I have an idea."

He disppeared sideways, out towards the living room, flicking the lights on as he went. Chris followed, blinking, unsteady, and got into the living room just in time to see Joey striding into the kitchen. Standing up straight was presenting a slight problem, so he leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. That was enough support.

He could hear movement in the kitchen - drawers being opened and shut, utensils bumping against each other as Joey rummaged - and finally Joey's gave a triumphant, "Aha!" and slammed a drawer. When he loped out of the kitchen, a sly grin on his face, Chris swallowed hard and his hard-on withered. Joey was carrying a knife.

It was a big one, too: the knife Chris only ever used when he was making ribs for a barbecue, sharp enough to cut through bone. Chris swallowed again, his mouth dry. "Jesus, dude," he said, and his voice came out thin and strangled. "What are you gonna do with that, hack off a body part?"

Joey waved the knife unsteadily, still grinning. "I thought I could," he said, and gestured towards his forearm with the tip of the knife. "Draw a little blood."

Damn, but alcohol made Joey stupid sometimes. The knife was way too close to Joey's arm, slicing erratically at the air, and he was going to hurt himself by accident if he wasn't careful. Chris took five long, quick steps across the living room, enough to take him to Joey, and put his hand over Joey's, over the hand holding the knife. "You're gonna draw a _lot_ of blood with that thing," he said. Joey frowned. "C'mon," Chris said, "give it to me."

Joey loosened his grip on the knife and let it fall into Chris's hand. It was disconcertingly heavy, the handle warm from Joey's touch.

"You wanna do it?" Joey asked. Chris looked up at his face. The blood had clotted on his lip where Chris had hit him. His eyes were wide and dark and beautiful, and the red of his hair suited him almost as well as the blood had. Chris quashed that thought hard; Joey said, "You wanna cut me?"

Chris let go of Joey's hand but kept the knife. "No," he said firmly.

It was bad enough that he'd managed to hit Joey in the face, stupid drunken lack of co-ordination, but the thought of hurting him deliberately, of the knife sinking through Joey's skin, was enough to make Chris feel sick inside. "No," he said again. "No. I don't want anyone to cut you."

"Huh," Joey said. "I thought that might turn you on." Joey looked so genuinely bewildered that Chris felt a rush of affection for him, and he put one hand up to the side of Joey's face. Joey smiled and turned his head to kiss Chris's palm; Chris leaned up to follow that with a real kiss, and then remembered that he still had a damn butcher knife in his hand. He drew back, and Joey's brow creased up.

"I'm gonna put this away," Chris said. "Or there's gonna be an accident." Joey relaxed as Chris pulled away, taking the knife, and made for the kitchen. As an afterthought, he turned when he reached the kitchen door and thrust the knife emphatically in the air. "Not a sex toy."

"Got it," Joey said with a lopsided grin. Chris stepped through the door.

The kitchen was nice and quiet and cool. Chris put the knife back in its drawer and took a second to get his breath back, resting his hands on the counter, staring down at the grainy formica as he thought. Maybe it wasn't such a weird conclusion for Joey to jump to, given the evidence. It still gave Chris the creeps, though; he didn't get off on hurting people. It was just the blood that made him itch deep down inside.

Blood. Mmm. In the car, Joey had dabbed his bloody finger against Chris's mouth, again and again until finally his split lip had started to clot, and it had made Chris squirm desperately against Joey until they were both laughing and panting. Joey had kissed Chris's mouth, lightly and briefly, and Chris had been able to smell the blood.

Just thinking about it was making his dick twitch and stir again.

He straightened up, adjusted himself and went back out. He felt much clearer and steadier now, as if the thing with the knife had shocked the drunkenness out of him. Joey was still standing in the middle of the messy living-room, amid the piles of magazines and video game boxes and discarded clothing. Chris hadn't exactly been expecting company.

"You okay?" Joey asked.

"Yeah," said Chris with a smile. Joey looked solid and lickable, and there was warmth and a little concern in his eyes. Chris walked right up to Joey, into his personal space. Joey pulled Chris close, returned Chris's smile, bit his lip. "Where were we?" Chris said.

Joey, bending his head, said, "Right here," and kissed Chris.

It wasn't light or brief this time, and Joey didn't seem to be paying any attention to his split lip. Chris wanted to point that out, but his tongue was occupied, sliding against Joey's in a rapid urgent rhythm, and their lips were pressed firmly together like they might never separate. Chris was hard again in an instant and raring to go. He braced his hands against Joeys' shoulders and let himself be kissed hard, violently almost, pressed up against Joey's chest. Joey's arms were firm around his waist like iron bands.

Chris scrabbled for a grip on Joey's shoulders and found himself sliding his hands up Joey's neck, over beard and up into his hair. This was what he'd been craving - since he'd touched Joey's bloody mouth in the car less than half an hour ago - or since the restless beginning of the night - or maybe even for years. Joey's body crushed against him, the kiss stretching on and on, seemingly endless, until Joey said, "Ow," into Chris's mouth and pulled back.

Chris dropped his hands back to Joey's shoulders and took a big gulp of air. It didn't really help with the urge to pant. "Your mouth?" he said.

"Yeah." Still cradling Chris with one arm, unwrapped the other from Chris's waist and put his hand up to his mouth, probing gently with his fingers. Chris could see that it had split open again; there was a drop of blood forming there. Chris squirmed, and the corners of Joey's mouth turned up.

"Wanna taste?" Joey asked, his voice rough.

What could he say? Chris nodded shakily as Joey moved his hand from the split. Chris expected Joey to let him taste the bloody fingertip again, but instead he licked his finger clean, planted his hand on Chris's ass, and dipped his head towards Chris. Their lips brushed. Chris drew back almost instantly, not wanting to hurt Joey, and licked his lips. The contact had left a tiny spot of blood, and when he tasted it, Chris trembled involuntarily. It tasted so good, sparking something deep and animal in his belly, drawing out a tiny whimper. He didn't dare do more.

"C'mon," Joey whispered. Their mouths were still so close that Chris could feel Joey's warm breath on over his lips. "It's okay."

Joey parted his lips slightly, and Chris found that the tip of his tongue was still resting on his lower lip. He slid it out a little further, and Joey murmured, "Uh huh." That was enough; tentatively, Chris extended his tongue until it was touching Joey's lip, slid it along until it met the split, and tasted blood.

God.

Joey's breathing was ragged and uneven as Chris licked gently, and Chris wasn't sure if it was from arousal or pain. He could feel Joey's dick against his belly, still hard - harder, perhaps, than he had been before - and he felt hot and achy and desperate all over. It was an effort not to grab the sides of Joey's head and kiss him passionately, let all the desire in his body come out in a rush. But that would hurt Joey, all that pressure against his wounded lip. No. Instead, he pulled back so he could look at Joey's face.

Joey's eyes were shut, his lips still parted, eyelashes fluttering a little. Chris said, "Am I hurting you?"

"Not so bad," Joey said. His voice was throaty and far-away.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know. It's okay." Joey opened his eyes as Chris lifted his hand to the side of Joey's face. "This gets you hot, right?"

Chris could only shiver and nod. Joey's hand pressed hard against his ass, grinding them together, and Chris shivered some more as Joey bent his head to kiss Chris's neck, a lingering wet kiss. Chris thought that must hurt, too, but Joey didn't seem to care.

"Joey," Chris moaned.

"Ssh." Joey's tongue slid along the curve of Chris's neck, and Chris could feel Joey's lips moving against his skin as he went on talking. "I wanna kiss you all over," Joey said. "I wanna leave little drops of blood all over you. And then lick them back up again and have you taste me 'til you can't stand it." Chris squirmed in Joey's arms and turned his head, struggling to find some skin to kiss. The underside of Joey's jaw was the only place he could find; he scraped his tongue against Joey's beard and Joey breathed out heavily. "And then I wanna fuck you."

There was a long pause as Chris let that sink in. He couldn't think at all: he was too busy imagining Joey moving inside of him, their bodies sliding against each other, slick with sweat, Joey's breath hard on his neck. His dick throbbed once to show its approval as Joey kissed along his throat and back again. Then Joey murmured, "That okay?"

Chris's throat had all but closed up, and his mouth was dry as Arizona. For a moment he couldn't speak. Then he managed a weak, "Yeah."

Joey straightened up - that meant pulling away just a little, and Chris's whole body protested - so that Chris could see him grinning. "Upstairs?" he said. His smile widened and softened: the patented Fatone pick-up smile, half an hour later than necessary.

Half an hour ago, of course, Chris would have just rolled his eyes. Joey's smile was legendary among the guys, somehow having the ability to turn women to jelly in seconds. Chris hadn't seen the smile up this close before, but right this second he could testify to its jellifying powers; all of a sudden he felt like he was having trouble standing up. Maybe he was just feeling the effects of the alcohol again; all of a sudden he felt unstable and muzzy-headed. He said, "Sure." Joey took his hand.

Joey led the way - Joey knew his house inside-out, they could all find their way around each other's houses in the dark - and they stumbled up the stairs hand-in-hand without speaking. The rich taste of the blood lingered in Chris's mouth, distracting him, and when Joey glanced back, all Chris could see was the glistening wound on his lip. Joey's hand was very warm in his.

It wasn't until they reached the bedroom that Chris realized they hadn't even taken their jackets off. He figured that would be pretty easy to negotiate while kissing, but when their lips met again, the blood on Joey's mouth was far too absorbing. Thankfully, Joey had a little more presence of mind, and shrugged his jacket off, somehow managing to get clear of it despite Chris's desperately pawing hands getting in the way. He tossed it behind Chris and there was a jangle of change and keys as it hit the floor.

They kissed some more as Joey went for Chris's jacket, sliding his hands underneath the shoulders and then pushing back so the jacket slid down Chris's arms. Chris took his hands off Joey long enough for the jacket to slide to the floor, then grabbed Joey's shoulders. Joey wasted no time going for the hem of Chris's T-shirt and yanking it upwards until Chris had to co-operate again. There was a brief moment where their lips parted as Joey pulled Chris's shirt over his head, and then they were mouth-to-mouth again, and Joey's hot hands were all over Chris's bare skin.

They took a few staggering steps further into the room - Joey first, walking backwards, and Chris following - and Joey pulled Chris down on the bed. Chris figured he was supposed to just sit, but he lost his balance and ended up lying on his back, feet on the floor. Joey grinned sharkishly and took advantage, rolling himself on top of Chris so that their groins bumped and slid against each other. Chris wriggled and ground up appreciatively, and then Joey was kissing him again, letting out a series of soft grunts.

Chris found himself gasping into Joey's mouth as they kissed. Joey's kisses were lighter now, teasing, a flash of contact, blood-taste on his tongue, and then there was air between them again, and Chris's neck was straining up as Joey's hips pressed down. Between kisses, Chris wormed his fingers up underneath Joey's shirt and into the small of his back. He stroked and tickled with his fingers, and from the way Joey gave a groaning laugh and wriggled, Chris thought he'd found a sweet spot. He slid his hands up Joey's back, taking the shirt with it, and Joey said, "Mmmmm."

"Mmmm," Chris echoed. He tugged on the shirt, Joey took the hint and lifted his arms, and Chris removed the shirt with a feeling of triumph. He tossed the shirt at the open door, but didn't see where it landed, because the next second Joey was sinking down on top of him again, bare skin on bare skin. The slide of Joey's chest against his made him shiver again, a long, delicious shudder that ran from the small of his back all the way up his spine, and pressure and heat surged in his groin.

He put one hand back to the small of Joey's back, kissed him, and said, "C'mon."

Joey got the point and they scooted up the bed until Chris's head was on the pillows. He sat up, and there was a brief pause where they both took off their shoes and socks, and then all the footwear was gone and Joey toppled back on top of Chris. His hands went right for Chris's fly. Chris reciprocated, fumbling with Joey's pants because the little shocks of sensation in his groin left his fingers numb. Finally, though, he got Joey unzipped, and decided to save time and get rid of pants and underwear in one movement. Joey let out a happy little grunt as his dick sprang free.

Joey followed Chris's lead, and they helped each other out of their pants, quick as they could, because they were still pressed very close together, and every now and then as they wriggled their dicks bumped each other and Chris had to grit his teeth and _concentrate._ Joey's hands were everywhere at once, reaching down to disentangle clothing, suddenly sliding up Chris's chest and making him writhe. When Joey's heel scraped down Chris's leg, sliding the final pant leg down and off over his foot, Chris said, "Yes," and Joey grinned. He kicked both pairs of pants to the floor and climbed back on top of Chris.

Chris slid his hands up around Joey's middle and let his fingers meet in the small of Joey's back. Joey wriggled when Chris played his fingers against the right spot - it was right at the bottom of the crease of his spine - and Chris wriggled back. Chris's dick was rubbing up against the smooth skin on the inside of Joey's thigh, and Joey's was sliding against his lower stomach, and Joey kissed him again, and it all felt perfect; he could be really happy just coming like this, skin-on-skin, Joey solid above him and the taste of blood.

They kept moving. Joey's hands ran through Chris's hair again and again as Chris explored Joey's back with his hands, sliding down to tease at that sweet spot every so often. They'd built up a rhythm, fast and sweet, until it was just this side of too much, the slide of his dick against Joey's damp skin and the rich taste of Joey's kiss.

After a few minutes, though, Joey pulled back, panting, and stroked Chris's face. There was still blood on his mouth - the constant kissing couldn't be good for the split - and Chris could taste it on his tongue, making him feel dizzy and urgent. He let out his breath and gasped for air, and Joey's face was very close to his own, shuddering breath hot on his face.

"Can I fuck you?" Joey asked. It all came out in a rush, like he was scared to ask.

Chris sucked in a breath as his stomach twisted in anticipation, and breathed out. "Yeah," he said, hoarse and whispery. Joey leaned forward to nuzzle Chris's neck briefly, then hauled himself up.

He grinned as he sat up on his haunches. "Okay, condoms," he said. "Condoms condoms condoms. If I was a condom, where would I be?"

"Nightstand, top drawer," Chris said with a smile. "Left side of the bed." Joey dove to one side. "My left. Should be some lube, too."

Joey went the other way to dig through the drawer. There wasn't much in there - condoms, lube, breath freshener, emergency underwear - and Joey came out after just a couple of seconds with a handful of stuff. He dropped all but one of the condoms on the top of the nightstand and came back, one condom and a tube of Liquid Silk in one hand. He rested the other on Chris's stomach, and then slid it down to squeeze Chris's dick. Chris arched up into the touch, and Joey rubbed and squeezed again before moving his hand to Chris's thigh.

Chris shifted around on the bed. "Turn over?" he asked.

"Mm, that works."

Chris rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, and Joey's hand stroked a long line up and then down his back, making him squirm again. He heard Joey tear the condom wrapper, and then pop the lube open, and then Joey was sliding one slick finger inside of him, gently probing.

Chris had done this before: the muscle stretched easily around Joey's finger, and it felt good, a tease. Chris rocked back against Joey's hand and said, "More."

Joey added another finger. Chris moaned, because it was more, but it was still a tease, Joey's fingers grazing up inside, tickling where he wanted pressure, a slow glide where he wanted hard thrusts. The pressure was building again, his dick aching, his stomach fluttering. He moaned, "Joey, please."

"Now?" Joey asked, and there was a note of surprise in his voice, like he'd expected to be at the fingering for a while.

_"Now."_

It seemed like a long, long wait after Joey's fingers slid out, though it was probably only a few seconds before the head of Joey's dick was sliding inside. Chris turned his head so he could get some air, and Joey pushed in, slowly and steadily, until his chest was plastered against Chris's back and he was exhaling hot air onto Chris's neck and, yes, yes, that was it. That was perfect. "Oh," Joey gasped, "fuck, yes."

"Yeah," Chris said. "Yeah."

Joey slid out, and back in again faster. Chris rocked back into Joey's forward thrust and it sent shockwaves of excitement fluttering up through him, intensfied by the sweat suddenly pricking up on his back and by the comforter underneath him tickling at his erection. Joey thrust again, and his hands went underneath Chris's body, so that Chris was getting the good stuff no matter which way he moved - backward onto Joey's dick, forward against Joey's hands, it was all good.

Joey's thrusts were rhythmic and fast and intense, one hand squeezing and rubbing at Chris's dick, the other pressed against Chris's stomach, his teeth scraping against Chris's shoulder. The scratch of Joey's teeth was nice, everything feeding into the building pleasure, and then Chris bucked up and Joey bucked forward, his jaw spasmed, and his teeth sank into the top of Chris's back.

It hurt. Chris said, _"Ow."_ It came out loud and shaky and he rocked back against Joey involuntarily because the temperature in his body had suddenly rocketed and Joey was making delerious humming noises against his skin.

"Shit," Joey said. He thrust forward once more, like he couldn't help it, and then lay still against Chris's back. He didn't pull out, just said, "Shit, I'm sorry man, you're bleeding." He was panting.

Chris laughed breathlessly. "Then I guess we're even."

"Mm," Joey said, and his hips shuddered and rocked slightly. "Not quite." Chris twisted his head to try and get a proper look at Joey's face, but all he could manage was a glimpse of the side of Joey's head, out of focus. "Can I," Joey said very softly, "can I taste?"

"Okay," Chris said.

Tentatively, Joey's tongue licked at Chris's back. He could feel where it was a little sore, but he didn't care - the caress of Joey's tongue was soothing, and the wordless sound he made when he tasted Chris's blood made every muscle in Chris's body tense and release at once. He spasmed against the bed. When Joey started to thrust again, tongue sliding against that spot on Chris's back, Chris couldn't do anything but roll with it, shouting helplessly, clutching two fistfuls of the comforter underneath him.

Joey had been right. _Now_ they were even: Joey's split lip, Chris's scraped back, the taste of blood in both their mouths, sweet and decadent and hot. Chris wished he could crane around and kiss Joey, taste the blood again - Joey's, his own, would they mingle, taste different? - and he licked his lip, found a faint metallic tang, and Joey moaned loudly against his shoulder and that was more than enough.

He was going to come, way too fast and very very hard, and he should maybe be thinking about holding back, but he didn't want to. His dick was slipping against Joey's hand, and Joey was slick and hard and big inside him, gasping, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah," against Chris's skin, and it was too much. Chris's hips jerked and bucked and he yelled when he came, spilling over Joey's fist and onto the bed.

Joey didn't last much longer; he rolled his hips another four, five, six times as Chris lay dazed underneath him, and it still felt good, jolts of intense pleasure bolstering the sudden warmth flooding his body. Then Joey was shuddering out his own orgasm. All the tension bled out of Joey's body in an instant, and he pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside Chris, panting.

Chris, still lying on his stomach, didn't feel like moving. His head was already turned towards Joey, so he just blinked and smiled. Joey was still panting as he rolled the condom off.

"Mmmm," Chris said.

Joey turned to him, grinned, and pressed a kiss to Chris's forehead. Chris smiled blissfully as Joey tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash, then sank back onto the bed. "Yeah," he said.

Chris was starting to think he _couldn't_ move; all of a sudden he felt very drunk, his head cloudy and thick, limbs heavy, mouth dry and clumsy. His eyes drifted shut, and he blinked them open determinedly. "I'm sorry I hit you in the face, man," he slurred.

Joey rolled onto his side, put one arm around Chris, and snuggled close. His body heat and musky smell weren't helping Chris to stay awake. In fact they were doing quite the opposite, lulling him down into a warm, dark place where he didn't have to move or think. His eyes slid shut again.

Joey gave him a quick squeeze, and he grunted happily, brushing his hand against Joey's stomach. The last thing he was aware of before he went to sleep was Joey's voice, saying, "I'm not."


End file.
